


Brain-y is the New Sexy

by rejectbaboon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awesome Molly Hooper, BAMF John, BAMF Sherlock, Blood and Gore, Inspired by iZombie (TV), John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, John is a Bit Not Good, M/M, Moriarty Is A Dick, Not Really Character Death, Pre-Zombie Apocalypse, Sebastian Moran Being an Asshole, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 09:58:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13568205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rejectbaboon/pseuds/rejectbaboon
Summary: After John finds himself turned into a zombie, He has to manage his new life and special dietary needs, a new job at the morgue and evading Sherlock Holmes' close scrutiny and obsession to have him become his flatmate. All the while trying to unfold a deeper and more gruesome plot that could put London and the world in terrible danger, and also..did he mention he really, really wants to eat Sherlock's brain? Yeah.





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

I sleepwalked through September and barely crawled through October, by which point Harry was threatening me with the nut house. Apparently Ella , the psychologist the army assigned me had gotten in touch with my one living relative to enquire why I never made it to my appointments. 

Harry came up empty handed, and she made sure to slur through the phone she’d sent me, or lately behind the closed door of my bedsit how much of a useless pilock I was.

I could, of course, explain to her that I found myself with a sudden, clawing craving to crack her's, Ella’s and everyone else’s skull open for their brains but I’m sure that would have been a one way ticket to a padded cell. 

I figured that the arrangement suited Harry anyway. She tried, enough to suit her drunken conscience for a bit, and by the time November slumbered past, she'd given up.

By that point I had it figured out. I ate Merrick Crawford’s, Jack Saw and Cindy Terry’s brains – the latter of which I still had some of her frontal lobe stored in my fridge to last for another few days.

I didn’t start out like this of course. I wasn’t born a monster, of course not. I used to be a doctor..a healer and a protector of my country. And then that faithful day happened in Afghanistan. I remember the awful sun, too bright and disconcerting, screams and shots, bullets flying by – and then a steel grip on my leg and the confusing and painful sensation of strong teeth clamping on my flesh.

I’ve been living a nightmare since then. If you could call it living.

I tried my best to find a solution. I thought I found it in my gun at first, but then I regained consciousness three hours later with a slowly healing bullet wound between my eyes , so that answered that question.

But if I could manage to.. curb my appetite. If I managed to hunt my prey from the lowest bowels of society, then surely it can't be too bad. Yes, I can make it work. I could give a purpose to the tattered remains of my existence.

It was Friday at noon, and I was limping my way through St James park, when I heard someone call my name. I was about to carry on, sure that it would be another John that someone was so insistent on capturing the attention of, but Mike Stamford meant to speak to me.

After months of anonymity, I was awkward and befuddled and I managed to land myself in the uncomfortable situation of accompanying Mike to Bart's, to meet a prospect flatmate. Oh dear.

Sherlock Holmes was the most interesting person I’d ever met, dead or alive, but he was too observant to move in with. He’d have me figured out in two seconds flat, so regrettably I passed on the offer to take up the free room at 221B.

However, I did manage to land myself a job at the morgue, so it wasn’t too bad a trade off.

I worked an eight hour shift with a reasonable pay and careful access to a free and fresh brain supply. 

And my colleague, Molly Hooper was a lovely co worker, on her way to becoming a good friend I probably was in desperate need of.

My other, albeit unofficial and sporadic colleague was of course, Sherlock Holmes. It seems what you’re afraid of, you can’t escape.

After everything changed, I thought my deepest fear was to lose control and be discovered. But later, I realized I’m terrified of snapping and hurting innocent people. People I love.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly and I were just finishing up with the latest Mr. Doe to wound up on our slab. 

I was cleaning the working station, rubbing at a particularly stubborn piece of gore stuck to the metal. I heard the door to the fridge slide shut behind me so I assumed Molly’s covered him up and shut him back in his fridgerated drawer. 

‘Nasty case. I’m thinking a serial killer, do you think?’

Molly managed to surprise me with how chirpy she continued to be, despite our working environment. You’d think that an ex-surgeon, ex-soldier zombie I’d be more casual about death, but somehow I continued to hold a certain sombre attitude to it.

I was glad for that, the moment death stopped mattering to me, at least where others were concerned of course, it was too late for me – then that’s when I’d know it was time to set myself on fire.

Last week I reattached a finger when Molly wasn’t looking, after I cut it with the chainsaw by accident. I was slow, I hadn’t eaten in a while which makes me clumsy. She’d turned around just when the last pieces of flesh were melting together. So shooting and cutting limbs off is out of the question. I wondered if destroying my brain would work, but then I thought of fire. Fire destroys everything in it’s path, and isn’t it always the best method used to get rid of ghouls and other crawlies in all those zombie movies I’d watched lately?

But anyway, I realized I’d zoned out so I shrugged in response to Molly’s question.

‘Possibly. More Sherlock’s department, that.’

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Before Molly could finish blushing as she usually did at the ‘consulting' detective’s name, the door banged open and said man's posh shoes slapped across the white tiles to his usual perch at the microscope.

‘Oh, umm, Sherlock! Hi!’ 

Stuttering excitingly, Molly took a few steps forward, clasping her red covered gloved hands behind her back. 

Shaking my head, I didn’t look up. I pitied the poor girl, who was obviously arse over tits for the man who wouldn’t give her a second glance. 

It kind of brassed me off sometimes, the manner in which the younger man treated and used Molly, who’d become my friend. But i made sure i kept my words to myself, as it wouldn’t due to attract even more of the detective's unwanted attention.

Besides, I didn't have much space to speak , as I was also using Molly..in a fashion.

Ignoring the two behind me, I turned around to snap the gloves off and bag them in the biological rubbish bin. 

It was passed five already, and the fact that Molly wasn’t already out the door posed a big problem before Sherlock’s appearance adding to my distress. 

I had carefully dug out Mrs. Kathy Reynolds frontal lobe earlier when Molly took her lunch break, and now I couldn’t squirrel it out with those two loitering around. Sherlock would sniff it out like a bloody bloodhound. 

The squabbling behind me captured my awareness and I spun round to see Sherlock looming over the sputtering girl from his perch, like a vulture.

‘ – where is it, I need it, Hooper!’ 

Molly’s messy pony tail bounced when she shook her head.

‘ I don’t have one Sherlock, I, I can’t just open up their skull when they died of a stab wound, people would – my boss would question it!’

I looked down, feeling my eyebrows twitch unintentionally and my mouth purse tight. Uhh, yeah, about that, Molly..

Wait a minute, I suddenly realized what they were talking about, so I cleared my throat questioningly.

Sherlock turned to me.

‘She’s being incredibly annoying, John, tell her. I need to study Mrs Reynold’s brain, I’m telling you as I told Gavin -'

‘Who?’ asked Molly.

‘ – that she did not die because of a stab wound. I mean yes that greatly contributed to her inevitable demise by that point, however, she’d been fed a poisonous toxin that affected and paralyzed her brain seconds before she was stabbed.’ 

Sherlock had delivered his speech in that rapidly acerbic manner of his and my half starved brain struggled to catch up. I shook my head to dispel the sluggishness .

‘No but that's impossible, we haven’t found any traces of poison or toxins in her bloodstream, Sherlock.’

Behind Sherlock, Molly nodded and piped up.

‘I did the blood analysis myself, I would know..umm, sorry!’ she squeaked upon Sherlock’s sharp stare. The detective turned his head back to stab me with his eyes and sharp tongue.

‘Yes, well that is why I need to take a look at it and not you two incompetent fools. Now hand me my brain!’

Mine. 

My brain.

Now that managed to raise my hackles up. I was tired, I was incredibly hungry, all I wanted was to go home and eat the brain which I worked so hard for and now this little posh brat was going to steal it away from me, after he’d insulted my professional ability. I felt myself puffing up, and clenched my hands in tight fists.

‘Now hold on a bloody second, we are not your servants and this place is certainly not your personal brain supply shop.’

It’s mine.

The consultive brat opened his mouth and I pointed at him, ignoring Molly’s frantic hand gestures at me behind him.

‘Or any other body parts for that matter.’ 

Scowling, Sherlock threw himself off of his chair in my direction, and I felt the angry bees zooming around in my stomach. If he thought he could intimidate me, he had another thing coming. It was just when we mutually stepped forward in each other’s personal space when it hit me in the face, literally. The most amazing scent I’ve ever smelled.

My god, my mouth watered, I felt my vision go fuzzy and I reckoned my pupils must have tripled in size by the slight flicker of confusion on Sherlock’s face. 

I swallowed convulsively when he cocked his face slightly to the right and thus further towards me. I’d suddenly captured his attention through my confusing reaction, he’d forgotten all about his previous tantrum because he finally had me where he wanted me, close under his inspection. He had been trying ever since we’d met those three weeks ago to get closer to deduce me, I supposed there was something strange about me that intrigued him. Had I been human, I'd have been flattered but as it was, I was terrified he would suss me out.

So I kept my distance, never really came within three feet of him, so I hadn’t known until this moment that a Zombie can smell a brain through skull plates, skin and curls. Sherlock smelled mouth watering, I felt my fingernails dig in my palms and my cock twitch in my pants. 

Dear god, I wanted to bite into and fuck his head at the same time. 

Uh oh.

Molly’s voice registered from somewhere behind the looming, appetizing brain, uhm form blocking my vision. We only had eyes for each other, I was captivated by him and I was holding myself in place desperately and if asked I wouldn’t be able to tell people how I’d managed not to attack him then and there. 

‘ I uh, I will just go get Mrs Reynolds out Now, I think. Won’t be a moment Sherlock. I'm sure no one would bother to check her anyways, she has no living relatives so..’

I closed my eyes and swallowed another mouthful of saliva which had pooled in my mouth. I had to do something fast so I resigned myself and gritted out.

‘Molly, don’t bother. I’d already dug it out, it’s on the metal plate in the second fridge.’ 

‘Oh uhm, okay John.’ She laughed nervously .

Hearing this Sherlock’s eyes widened the tiniest bit, and even his pupils reacted. I wasn’t sure what it meant, had he figured me out? Or was it just fascination? What if he knew though? What if he’d just saw my reactions, and my poor attempt at disguise when so close to me? And now he knew I dug out a brain earlier. Shivers broke down my spine and thoughts flew through my mind at the speed of light, trying to grasp at a reasonable explanation .

‘I heard you mention it to Gavin – ‘ 

Damn, stupid, stupid. But I continued quickly anyway hoping he hadn't noticed.

‘ – uh Greg on the phone yesterday when you were leaving. I knew it would come to this in the end anyway.’ 

I tried to shrug casually. Sherlock blinked as if reluctant to give his scrutiny up for even a fraction of a second.

‘Interesting.’ 

His baritone voice showered over me, as did his breath. I gulped it down, if possible to swallow someone’s breath, and felt myself sway forward just a bit.

Molly cleared her throat and shoved a standard organ carrier cool box between us, almost hitting me in the stomach.

‘Whoops, sorry John. Here Sherlock. Good..investigation? Ha, uhm please let us know if you find something different. Are you going to use the lab or go home?’

I took Molly’s interruption as the blessing it was, and dragged my unwilling feet backwards to put some space between us. I felt on the verge of snapping. Hungry, confused, tired, hungry, craving, desperately craving urghh!

Sherlock didn’t move, he took his time before he grasped the cool box and spoke, almost absent mindedly.

‘ Home, I should think.’

With that he spun around and in two seconds flat he was gone in a flurry of cloak and swinging door, depriving me of my dinner. And I wasn’t sure I was referring to Mrs R's brain in this instance.

Turning around, I grasped the edge of the cool working station hoping to get a grip on my sanity as well.

‘ John? John are you..okay? You look quite pale, should you see a doctor? I mean you are a doctor, and I am a doctor, but you know, I’m used to my patients to be a bit too pale haha, but I’m sure you’re not. Can you treat yourself or should I give you something – Oh I think I have some Nurofen from when I had my cramps – ‘.

Bless her, Molly managed to break through my haze with her usual rambling charm and I smiled and turned around go shake my head.

‘ – oh, sorry!! Probably shouldn’t have said that but then again we are doctors. Maybe some vitamin D would work instead –‘.

‘Molly, I’m fine.’ I clasped my hands on her white coated shoulders and clasped gently.

‘ Let’s both of us go home, okay? It’s getting late and I don’t want you wandering around at night.’

We both smiled, although I felt mine freeze on my face at the thought of a crazed zombie attacking my friend. Ironic, considering I was just moments away from sucking Sherlock’s brain, possibly through his cock. 

I cleared my throat and stepped away towards the hook to put my jacket on and gather up my stuff.

I was being paranoid anyway, there were no zombies in London, aside from me. Not that I’ve seen, and I’ve kept a careful eye.

I was still hazy, I wasn’t really online when we said goodbye that day. I only watched Molly stop at bus stop from the entrance to the morgue. When I felt sure she wouldn’t see me, I sneaked back inside trying to look nonchalant in case of the odd colleague stumbling upon me and for the security cameras.

But there was no living soul left in this part of the hospital so late, I thought.

And that is how Molly Hooper found me bent over Mr. Doe, sticky fingers scraping inside his cranium for the last disgustingly delicious dregs of pink, luscious brain. 

Uh oh.


End file.
